maskormenacelogs | F*ck you and f*ck this job

Entry tags:

† maxwell trevelyan | inquisitor

Fck you and fck this job

WHO: Dorian Pavus and you
WHERE: The bullshit retail job in Heropa Dorian works that I can't remember the name of, and then Pour Decisions
WHEN: Afternoon-ish on April 10th, later at Pour Decisions
WHAT: Dorian gets fired. Or quits. Both. Then he goes to spend money that he really shouldn't on wine because what are adult life choices?
WARNINGS: Language, then drinking

It is 3 hours into a ten hour shift and Dorian was done five minutes before he walked in the door. He is being shouted at by a woman over a five dollar off coupon that expired a year ago and he is not being paid enough to deal with this. He's been imagining setting the woman's hair on fire three seconds after she started in on him and there is not enough wine in all of Heropa for him to deal with this. He finally does what every retail employee since the dawn of retail has wanted to do. He snaps.

"Actually no, Mrs. Dimwiddie" she tries to correct him and he keeps right going, raising his voice to drown her out as necessary "I'm not going to honor this coupon, and do you know why? Because it is expired, and calling you a harpy and a shrew would be an insult to both creatures. Perhaps if you could have mustered up a shred of common courtesy or manners I would have rang it through anyway, because goodness knows I haven't the slightest bit of interest in helping the thieves that run this establishment make a single cent. But as you have decided to be rude and tasteless, I have decided that I would rather gouge both my eyes out than listen to you for another five minutes. If you had the ability to read dates or a sense of shame enough to admit when you were wrong you would have taken this useless piece of paper and shoved it down your throat so that perhaps the rest of us don't have to listen to your senseless tirade against the decent sort of people that know what the Maker damned year is."

The tirade has, of course, drawn the attention of his supervisor, who at this point tries to intervene with an apology to the woman and an angry look at Dorian, but Ser Pavus is not going to be silenced. Not now. "No Jeremy, you are not going to give this woman her damned discount just because they removed your spine when you got promoted. I don't give a single shit about keeping a terrible customer happy, especially since last week you let her return an item that we don't even stock anymore!"

This then of course turns into a shouting match between Dorian and the unfortunate Jeremy, which doesn't really take long once Dorian calls him a "lackluster, spineless cretin that couldn't be trusted with a worm colony" because then Jeremy's telling him that he can just leave, to which Dorian shouts back that "you may take this job and shove it directly up your arse, which is the only redeemable quality about your entire person!" Whereupon he takes off his apron and nametag and throws both items in the air, before lighting them both in a flash of fire so hot that they're ash by the time they would have hit anyone. The drama of his exit assured, he turns on his heel and stalks out the door, with Jeremy shouting tremulously that the cost of the apron was going to be taken out of his last paycheck and Dorian flipping him the bird as he walks out. If only automatic sliding doors could be properly slammed.

Later

Dorian is a semi-regular at Pour Decisions, though he's not usually there to socialize, just to have a few drinks and remind himself what it's like to be around people that aren't expecting him to wait on them hand and foot before he goes home and passes out in his bed before yet another shift. But fuck it, he doesn't have to worry about his stupid shit job anymore, and while a small voice in the back of his head is reminding him that no job means no extra drinking money, there is a much louder voice that is reminding him that since he quit he doesn't have to open the store in the morning and thus he can drink and stay up as late as he wants without worrying about a hangover. It's easy to tell which side is currently winning.

Which means that he's all smiles to anyone who sits down nearby, he's drinking strong fruity drinks with little swords and umbrellas in them and is in a lovely mood. "Hello! Care to have a drink with me? I am having a lovely day."

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Maxwell wandered in somewhere between "would rather gouge my own eyes out" and "lackluster, spineless cretin" and stood back, chuckling into the magazine rack as he watched the scene unfold. Apparently, Dorian rather didn't need a companionable face today - given how he was making his own fun.

He watches the ashes of Dorian's uniform float for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he slants the now infamous Jeremy a glance.

"Just be glad it was only the apron."

Then he was jogging through the doors and down the street after Dorian's all but steaming figure.

"Was it as satisfying as it looked?" he teases as he catches even.

Since Maxwell had wandered in mid-tirade, Dorian hadn't even noticed his presence, though he would have appreciated the audience. He was still angry as he walked down the street, but it was righteous anger at having finally given that place a piece of his mind. Not nearly big enough, but he felt his point had been well made. Any longer and the police might have been called, and that would have been more trouble than it was worth.

He's stopped from the pleasant fantasy of Jeremy having to cover the rest of his shift, the customers growing more and more unpleasant and frustrating by the moment, by Maxwell's voice. He starts a bit, and then turns, a smile on his face that is just this side of vicious. "My one and only regret is that I hadn't done it weeks ago. You enjoyed the performance then? I thought burning that hideous apron was a nice touch." He can't help but preen a bit, he has not a single regret and is riding high on having finally been able to give a stupid customer the chewing out they deserved.

"I thought it was quite elegant," he replies, flashing a wide, wicked sort of smile. "It was both nice of you, considering how tempting it must have been to burn the whole thing to the ground, and tactful. Just enough flash to make a point, but not so destructive that they'll probably call the authorities."

He offers Dorian a duck of his head - impressed deferment.

"A fine line, well played."

"It is still tempting, but I also would like to avoid being arrested today. One bout of justified theatrics should do just nicely." Oh he liked that smile on Maxwell, and it made his own wider in return, sketching out a quick little bow.

"It's always nice to have someone that can appreciate me as I deserve. What did Jeremy's face look like when I'd left? That's always the worst part of storming out, you miss the reaction." It really was a pity, as he was indeed a peacock and loved to know the sort of reactions he got.

Maxwell's gaze goes distant, replaying the scene in his mind.

"Terror, mostly. Both, I think, as he realized how close he'd likely come on multiple occasions to being roasted alive, and that he had no one to immediately replace you. Then a quick attempt to cover it up in front of his audience."

Another sly sort of glance at Dorian.

"It didn't work. We all saw."

"Wonderful, he's a sleazy bastard and a coward and I quite despise him. He needs a little terror in his life." Dorian was really quite elated, that had felt even better than he had imagined it

"Though what were you doing there? You don't strike me as the sort of person needing wagon and trailer hardware. Not that I don't appreciate the audience. I'm simply curious." Had he come to visit Dorian? That would be... rather sweet really.

Maxwell laughs, a rich, handsome sound, and cocks his head at Dorian.

"You mean setting someone's property ablaze isn't a token of your affection?"

Still grinning, he shrugs his shoulders slightly.

"Not that I don't find nuts and bolts thrilling, but I thought perhaps you would appreciate company that wasn't work related."

Dorian laughed in return, he didn't think Maxwell would appreciate anything being set on fire as a way of Dorian trying to get his attention. Maybe a shower of sparks, if he could manage that, but not setting someone else's things on fire. "No no, you can rest assured I would only burn something down if I was quite angry about it."

His smile softened "Well then I must congratulate you on your excellent timing. I would have appreciated the company yes, but now it seems I shan't need it at work." And wasn't that nice, though he supposed the downside would be that Maxwell wouldn't have an excuse to just drop by his job and visit. Well, he could always drop by Dorian's apartment he supposed, but that might be a bit awkward.

"True." Maxwell bobs his head and puts on a sigh. "And I came all this way...."

But then, with a look down the sidewalk and a stage-glance at Dorian, he offers, "Then again, you never know, this street could be quite a sad and lonely one. Maybe I'll stick around a bit, see how it goes?"

"Hm yes" he glanced up and down the street "Better stick around, just in case." He paused and then made a decision. Why not?

"In fact, I really think it would be best if you helped me check the street over to this little bakery I found. I've been meaning to go in, but I simply haven't had the time. And you know, you can never be too careful." It wasn't really anything like a date, mostly because Dorian was not dressed for such, but hey, he had Maxwell here, he might as well take advantage of it.

"Wise," he nods sagely, the glint back in his eyes, "the secret ingredient could be Doom."

Did you try the ham? It tasted of despair.

"Best to have a tester try everything first."

"How brave of you to put your life on the line for me, Inquisitor. Such a noble sacrifice will surely be remembered."

He turned down the side street that the bakery was down, he'd actually spotted it when he was lost and trying to get to work, and there it was Sugarfoot Sweets written in a nice little script, the windows filled with cookies and cakes and pastries. The smell of baking breads and cakes wafted out the open door.

"The name leaves something to be desired, but the smell more than makes up for it. Shall we?"

"But of course. What kind of noble hero would I be, leaving my fellows to face such horrors in my stead."

He glances at the sign, starts to look at Dorian, and laughs softly.

"My first thought too. I'm not sure I like being reminded of feet when eating."

But gamely, he waves Dorian on and follows him through.

"Yes well, perhaps we can ask someone why they chose such an... interesting name for their establishment."

The inside smells even better than the smells that wafted out the door, and there's an espresso machine to add to the general baking smells, and a long case full of just about every baked good imaginable. There's a young woman behind the counter, or sort of behind the counter, as she's one of only two people there and is currently loading a fresh batch of croissants into the case. The shop is mostly empty, so she looks up wide eyed when Dorian clears his throat, pushing a round pair of glasses up where they've fallen down her nose.

"Oh! Hi there! Welcome to Sugarfoot Sweets, what can I get for you?" Her smile is bright and open, hopeful that the two men are going to bring her some business.

"I think I'd like one of those croissants, what do you want Maxwell? Oh, and a latte please, just a small." The espresso machine is being run by another young lady with blue and purple hair and rather more piercings than Dorian might normally think were necessary, but he's hardly one to judge so long as she can make good drinks.

Maxwell breathes deeply, pleased to find the shop smells far better than the sign would imply, and quietly considers the board while Dorian goes about his order. He hums a moment when it's his turn, then after a beat, leans toward the counter and offers the clerk a polite smile.

"...One of the banana-nut muffins, please. With the crumbly bits?" His smile widens slightly, sheepishly handsome for not knowing the correct term - or if there even is one. "And a small green-tea chi, frozen."

When she turns to put their order together, he glances at Dorian.

"The crumbly bits are the best part."

Angela happens to be one of those people that's about to sit nearby when she sees him smiling and it's like a magnet after her also 'lovely day'. So she ends up sitting beside him and returning a smile at him. It's really infectious, but it makes a change from the throbbing headache she'd been having since 9:01.

"I'm always willing to join people for a drink." A little bit of a lie, but not today. She'd left work early for whatever reason it was. Time owed probably and she'd decided what better way to spend it than with a few drinks.

"You seem cheerful enough, up for sharing what makes it so good?"

"And I am always willing to have such lovely company." His smile is friendly as he lets the bartender know to put Angela's next drink on his tab before he turns back to her.

He can't help but chuckle, letting out a satisfied sigh when he thinks about what had happened again. "I probably shouldn't be this happy about it, but I quit my job. It was an awful place and I'm certainly not sorry to see the last of it. But the really satisfying part was being able to tell my manager what an asshole he is." It was such a relief to have been able to just get it out when he'd been biting his tongue continually for nearly two months now. Thank the Maker he was out of there.

She thanks him for that and orders a moscow mule. She turns to face Dorian more after ordering her drink and smiles as he starts to tell his story.

"Well congratulations on working up the nerve to do that." She has the drink now and brings it up for a cheers moment.

"You've got every right to be happy about it. If the place made you miserable and your boss was awful, then good, I'm glad you were able to step away from it.

There's lots of opportunity here and it's a lot easier to chase what you want."

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